


The Time is Ticking (Watch It Drip Away)

by EchoShimmer



Series: Wumptober 2020 [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: (as in the on a timer kind), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Concussions, Delayed Drowning, Hurt Tim Drake, Hypothermia, M/M, Mentions of drugs, Mild Memory Loss, Near Death Experiences, Referenced JayTim, Tim Drake-centric, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26996899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoShimmer/pseuds/EchoShimmer
Summary: Tim wakes up alone and on the clock if he wants to survive.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Everyone, Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Wumptober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948924
Comments: 11
Kudos: 156





	The Time is Ticking (Watch It Drip Away)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the companion fic to my day 6 prompt [If I Had to Fight Through Hell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26861869) that was requested by [CasualOtaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualOtaku/pseuds/CasualOtaku), but it should be able to stand on its own.

When Tim first woke up, there was a moment of fuzzy, relaxed contentment before the reality of the situation could sink in. His mind was fuzzy with sleep, slow to assess his surroundings as he drifted peacefully. It took a few seconds of floating before it registered that this level of unawareness was unnatural for him. It took another few seconds for him to sort through the confusing assortment of signals that his body was sending him as soon as he was aware enough to process them.

Pain from his head, radiating outward from the central point on the back of his skull.

Chilled stone pressing into his back.

A vaguely familiar, cool pressure encasing his body up to the chest.

Somewhere nearby, the steady trickling of water.

In the distance, the rumble of thunder.

Tim’s eyes snapped open to take in his dimly lit surroundings. It took a couple of blinks for his vision to focus enough to make sense of things. His efforts were met with the reveal of a stone brick wall, water lapping around two feet from the floor. Confusion mounting, Tim tilted his head back a bit to follow the wall upward.

And that's when the full situation sank in.

Tim was in a well of some sort. A cylindrical, enclosed area roughly six feet in diameter and fifteen feet deep, which Tim was currently sitting at the bottom of. Far above Tim’s head was a metal grate, a stormy sky visible through the gaps in the cover. Water poured in around the edges, leaving damp trails on the stone before collecting at the bottom.

He was trapped at the bottom of a pit steadily filling with water, and if the flashes of lightning were anything to go by, the rate of flow would only be increasing.

Alright. Okay. Emergency procedures time. Analyze what he had and come up with an escape plan.

It took a few seconds of straining for Tim to to maneuver his limbs into the right patterns to pull himself to his feet. His knees shook a bit but ultimately held. His mind was rapidly clearing after his initial confusion, his coordination and clarity returning as whatever he had been drugged with was chased away by adrenaline. Good news, he now had the brainpower to actually make a plan. Bad news, the retreat of the drug (a sedative?) just made it clear how much his head  _ ached _ . It was a bit distracting, but as far as hindrances go Tim much preferred the physical pain to the drug in this case. He could ignore the injury for the time being.

(Tim was also ignoring the fact that he had absolutely no idea how he had ended up in this situation. He would have plenty of time to contemplate that when he  _ wasn’t _ in danger of drowning.)

Tim shook himself free from the lingering questions, forcing himself to focus once again on the situation at hand. Alright, he was up and mostly intact, time to take stock of potential supplies. 

It didn’t take much time at all to realize that Tim’s “supplies” boiled down to practically nothing. He was dressed in his Red Robin armor with his mask intact, which confirmed his initial intuition that whatever had brought Tim here had to do with the family’s nightlife, not the Wayne's day to day jobs. That was good, he wouldn’t have any need to downplay his skills while escaping like he would in his civilian persona. 

But whoever had nabbed him had done so intelligently. Tim’s bandoleers, boots, and gloves had been removed from his person, and with that most of his useful supplies were gone. He would still have a couple small blades and lock picking sets stashed in small hidden compartments of the suit itself, but none of that was really helpful in this situation. 

A quick tap against his ear was enough for Tim to confirm that his Comm had been removed as well. There wasn’t going to be any calling for backup this time. Either the others would realize that he was missing and somehow locate him on their own, or Tim would be rescuing himself.

Well, that left him with approximately one option then.

A closer analysis of the stone walls confirmed that they would not be easy to climb, what with the close packed, smooth stones and the steady drip of water adding an extra layer of difficulty. But it wasn’t impossible, and it’s not like Tim had many other options. The water had risen another half a foot in the short time he had taken Tim to get everything in order, already lapping at his crotch while standing.

“Get a move on, Red,” he mumbled to himself, focusing his energy.

Tim moved to haul himself up the first stretch of wall and immediately dropped back down. His cape was still attached, and by the time he had awoken the fabric had already soaked through alongside the bodysuit, bunching up and clinging and startlingly heavy. It was an easy decision to ditch the material before attempting the climb for real.

After that was dealt with, it was a slow, careful ascent, clinging to the damp wall by his toes and fingertips and ignoring how the chilled stone and water continued to sap away his body heat as Tim clawed his way up inch by inch. Tim ignored his body’s many complaints, focusing on the careful balance of weight that was the only thing keeping him from slipping.

He had almost made it, maybe three feet from being able to reach the grate, when there was a sudden flash of light and crashing of thunder from above. That was the only warning the sky gave before the steady rainfall evolved into a full out downpour, the likes of which even Gotham only saw a couple of times a year. 

Unfortunately for Tim, that meant the consistent trickling of water from above that he had been contending with throughout his climb gave way to a veritable flood, crashing into him with enough unexpected force that his concentration and balance were thrown. Tim’s fingers slipped, and with a yelp he suddenly found himself in free fall.

Objectively, by normal vigilante standards, the fall wasn’t all that far, maybe around ten feet or so. But the sudden shock of a face full of cold water and the lingering haze over his mind meant that Tim had no time to react, hitting the water back first. Tim’s head hit the bottom of the well, luckily slowed by the growing pool of water but nonetheless it was enough to send ricochets of pain through his already damaged skull. The previously abandoned cape ended up in the perfect position to tangle with Tim’s flailing limbs, only adding to the panic of the moment. 

All in all it took much longer than it should have for Tim to pull himself upright, coughing and pushing his too-long hair out of his eyes as he huffed in frustration. He was right back where he started, the grate sitting tantalizingly over his head. The rush of water continued on, rising faster than ever before. Standing at the bottom once again, Tim was submerged up to above his belly button.

The attempt at climbing had been rough, but what else was he supposed to do, just wait here until he couldn’t stand on the bottom anymore? Just give in and hope he could tread water long enough to be lifted to the top?

…

Well, that would have to be the backup plan, Tim supposed, but really he would much prefer to get out sooner rather than later. The sudden increase in water flow had taken him by surprise, but up until that point things had been going rather well. He would try climbing up one more time, and if that failed then he’d admit defeat.

Stubbornly ignoring the suppressed trembling of his limbs and the throbbing of his head, Tim once again forced his strained body upwards against the pull of gravity. This time he listened carefully to the drumming of the rain above him, trying to predict shifts in the pattern so he could prepare for them as they came. There were a couple very close calls when a hand or foot slipped unexpectedly, worn muscles just starting to threaten to give out on him, but at long last Tim was able to pull himself up those last few inches.

Tim braced himself carefully, wary of slipping again now that he was so close. Shifting slowly, Tim twisted his body around and let go of the wall with his left hand to push against the covering, trying to shift it up and out of place.

It didn’t budge.

_ Impossible _ , Tim’s mind insisted instantly,  _ the damn thing can’t possibly be that heavy, it’s only like an inch thick _ . Tim pushed again, bordering on the limits of his balance and strength to do everything he could to shift the only thing blocking him from freedom. The unforgiving edges of metal and stone pressed roughly against Tim’s hands and feet, but it wasn’t until his muscles started trembling with the excretion and threatening to fail him that Tim finally gave in and admitted defeat. 

Readjusting slightly and using the grate as a better handhold for support rather than trying to push it, Tim pulled himself a bit higher, eyes scanning over the offending roadblock in an attempt to identify the cause of the issue. Lightning flashed again, blindingly bright, but in the moment before Tim’s eyes reflexively snapped shut he managed to catch the subtle discrepancy on the surface of the material above him.

Oh.  _ Oh _ . They had welded the cover shut instead of just setting it into place like any sane person would do. Of course. That makes perfect sense.

Tim had to fight back the hysterical laughter that threatened to burst through his chest at the realization. He wouldn’t be getting out of this one on his own. Even if he managed to wait out the rising water until it reached the top, he wouldn’t be getting out of this well without outside help. And if the thrashing branches visible through the grate were anything to go by, Tim was in all likelihood trapped somewhere on the outskirts of Gotham, cut off from the population and Oracle’s watching cameras. 

Unless someone from the outside had mercy or managed to track him down, there was a very real possibility that Tim would drown here. And with the memories of the day leading up to this point slowly matriculating back into Tim’s mind, the realization that the only ones currently in Gotham were Babs, Alfred, Jason, and Tim himself… the odds of the others being able to track him down in time were even lower.

But Tim’s depressing spiral of thoughts hit a snag there, because  _ Jason _ . Jason would almost certainly realize that something was off soon, if he hadn’t already. Hadn’t there been plans to meet up at some point that night, some new drug trafficking ring that they had decided to take out together as one of their weird vigilante-dates?

The Red Hood would be looking. Tim could hold out for as long as possible, for him. None of their enemies would go through the effort of trapping him in such an elaborate, drawn out death trap if they didn’t intend to use Red Robin’s predicament as some sort of incentive against the Bats. There were much easier ways to kill an unconscious vigilante if that’s all they had wanted. He was still alive, and that meant he had a shot at being found.

_ He had to keep fighting _ .

After another few minutes of stubbornly clinging to the wall along the top of the well, Tim had to admit that he physically wouldn’t be able to hold this position for the length of time he would potentially be waiting here. His fingertips and toes were already stinging with pain where the edges of the stone had cut previously, and his muscles were starting to shake with a combination of strain of fighting gravity and the bone-deep chill that came with being soaked to the skin. 

Drawing out his time here would only mean that he would eventually be forced to drop back down into the water already fully exhausted. At least by dropping down now and inevitably treading water, Tim could attempt to do so in a way that would conserve a bit more energy. Being more directly surrounded in water might speed up the hypothermia… but it’s not like he wasn’t already soaked through and shivering as it was. If he was treading water he could keep himself moving and hopefully stave off the worst of the effects, right? That seemed reasonable.

Still somewhat reluctant but resigned to his options, Tim carefully dropped himself back down the bottom of the well, this time managing to do so without further injury. Standing up straight, the water was already lapping at mid chest and rising. He wouldn’t have long to wait, then.

Sure enough, it was only minutes later before Tim was compelled to start swimming, both due to the depth and the pervasive cold. He quickly fell into the pattern of motions, rotating between using more of his arms or legs or, occasionally, trying to grip the increasingly slippery wall to keep his head above water. Tipping his head and chest back in an attempt to just float for a bit only ended with him getting his face pelted with rain and nearly breathing the water in, so that was a no for now.

Tim didn’t know how long he stayed there, minutes and perhaps hours falling away as the water slowly rose. Despite his best attempts to keep his muscles warm, the cold caught up quickly, numbing the feeling in his limbs. This meant that his headache was significantly easier to manage, small mercies, but that didn’t outweigh the fact that it was getting increasingly hard to think as his body fought to stay conscious. Tim’s thoughts fizzled out to nothing but the repetitive motion of his limbs against the slight current.

Memories floated in and out of his mind unbidden. Bruce smiling at him after a great presentation for WE. Dick grinning at him after shutting down a mob fight together. Damian’s annoyed “ _ Tt” _ when he was caught showing that he actually cares. Cass’s warm hug after having spent too long apart. The Titans kidnapping him for a weekend of fun when they knew he had been working too hard lately.

Jason laughing at something Tim had said. Jason bringing him lunch. Jason meticulously stitching up a cut on Tim’s arm after a long night on patrol before bullying the smaller boy into bed. The precious times over the last few months where the two of them had woken up together.

Less than a year ago, Tim would have been convinced that no one would be looking for him. That the mistakes he always seemed to make would eventually cost him his life, and that no one would really miss him once he was gone. So much has changed recently. The other Bats had realized after a series of close calls that Tim was drifting too far and had seen fit to correct it. He and Jason had grown closer and closer, eventually discovering that they fit surprisingly well together as partners in every sense of the word.

Tim would be  _ missed _ if he was gone. That realization had been a jarring one at the time. Now, it was what allowed him to continue to hold on. 

Someone would be looking. He had to hold out hope that they would make it in time.

Tim wasn’t sure how long this went on, but after a time he became all too aware of the alarmingly close approach of the upper limit to his cell. He wouldn’t be able to move the grate, especially now when his body was a hair's breadth from giving out on him. All this water would eventually fill itself up right to the top and beyond, and Tim would be trapped underneath.

Under the exhaustion, Tim knew that he should be a lot more terrified of the impending doom he had been presented. As it was, he was already struggling to keep his eyes open, so strong emotions weren’t really a possibility. Everything seemed so far away.

The mantra kept repeating through his mind.  _ Keep going. They will come for you. You can’t give in now _ . Throat raw with exhaustion and cold and too much swallowed water, Tim started calling out to anyone who could be up above, not seeing any other option to help here. He called for help, and he treaded water, and he hoped that somehow things would be okay.

But Tim could hear no voices from above assuring his safety. There were no signs of movement. Only the flash of lighting and rumble of thunder and fall of more rain. The remaining pocket of air shrank even further as the minutes passed. Tim had just enough awareness and energy remaining to lift a hand from the water and prevent him from hitting the grate head first once it drew close enough.

Tim found himself floating on his back, both hands gripping the grate desperately as if it still might move, might protect him, as the space remaining shrank down to mere inches. He managed one last mostly incoherent call for help before Tim sucked in a final breath and his face slipped under the water line.

With his ears full of pounding water, lungs burning, and eyes dimming, Tim was entirely unaware of the desperate voices calling back to him as his body finally gave in to the pull of unconsciousness. 

**Author's Note:**

> +Good ending (the one I would have written if I had more time): The Bat’s manage to track Tim down just in time, using small-charge explosive Batarangs to get through the grate and yank out Tim just before he fully drowned. Batman and Red Hood quickly get Tim breathing and stable enough to rush him back to the Cave, where a very anxious Alfred and Dick are standing by with all the needed medical equipment. Tim’s got a bad concussion, and the lack of spleen means that he has a terrible few weeks fighting off a nasty case of pneumonia once the hypothermia is dealt with, but his family is all there to make sure he makes it through. Luckily the cuts on his hands and feet don’t get infected. 
> 
> Tim wakes up the morning after the event bundled up in blankets in the Cave’s Medbay, Jason squeezed onto the cot beside him for all the cuddles and to assure himself that he made it and Tim is okay. The rest of the family, all of whom had rushed back towards Gotham as soon as they realized something had gone wrong, watches the pair’s quiet assurances warmly and with relief. Dick also eventually manages to join in on the cuddling once Tim is safe to be moved upstairs. Just a good, fluff-filled recovery.
> 
> +Bad ending, if you’re so inclined: Jason and Bruce still arrive, but they are just barely too late. Despite all their desperate efforts, nothing they do can get Tim breathing again. His body was just pushed too far past the limit and was without oxygen for just too long. Everyone in the hero community mourns, Jason most of all. He will always be haunted by the feeling that he should have been able to save his baby bird. For a short time Red Hood starts drifting in the direction of regression as far as the drug lord/pit madness stuff goes, but an emergency intervention by Roy and Kori (called into Gotham by the Bats when they realized they wouldn’t be able to help Jason on their own) reminds Jason that that wasn’t what Tim would have wanted. Jason slowly heals, but nothing is ever really the same.
> 
> (Whether Tim gets to rest peacefully or ends up in the opportunistic hands of a certain immortal megalomaniac in the bad ending is up for debate.)  
> \---  
> Anyways, no prompt for the 14th, but check back on the 15th for what's probably one of my favorites so far :). Have a good day!


End file.
